


Not Afraid

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Creature Fic, Demon Biology Elements, First Time, Incubus Peter Parker, Kissing, M/M, Peter Parker is not a Spidey Boy he's an Incubus, Rough Sex, Smut, Succubi & Incubi, Supportive Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Peter needs help, even if he won't accept it easily. He does. And Tony's right here, ready to give it to him.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99
Collections: Monster Cuties Flash 2020





	Not Afraid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [textbookchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/gifts).



It's too sudden for Tony to do anything about it except for gasping, whether in awe or fear, he's not quite sure. Until he sees Peter again, and he knows. This has nothing to do with fear. Everything to do with how drawn he is to this man, this lithe, mind-staggeringly quick, jaw-droppingly powerful creature, and his red, bright eyes that are staring right back at him. 

Red, bright eyes which are filled with water that reflects their color. Red, bright eyes that shouldn't look so scared when they could end him in less time than Tony would need to process Peter even moving. Red, bright eyes, that Tony both wants to drown in, and wants to empty of their unshed tears. 

"I am not afraid of you, Pete." Tony tells the boy, "I'm not afraid, and I'm not going anywhere." 

"You should!" Peter yells, only, his voice cracks right in the middle, another proof that he  _ needs  _ this. More fuel to Tony's fire, the fire he feels burning inside him, the fire that says he too,  _ needs. _ He needs to help Peter, whatever it takes. "Don't come any closer!" 

The words, although expected, still startle Tony enough that he stalls, a few feet of distance between them, an ocean of hurt and resentment and pain filling them, because it fills Peter. 

"I'm a monster, Mr Stark," the boy starts again, whispering this time, and somehow it feels like that's the real shout, like that's the words wrenching away from Peter so Tony can hear them. "You should go." 

Tony wonders, not for the first time, why it seems life seems to come the hardest to the purest souls. He doesn't count himself in those, not anymore, but when he was younger? When he was Peter's age? When he had half a mother and no decent father to claim him, and take care of him, and meet his needs — then, in retrospect, he did. Because he had dreams bigger than his world could contain, because he craved the simplest and the wildest things all at once, and yet nothing ever came any easier for all his praying and planning. 

Peter doesn't deserve this. The harshness of having a secret. The agony of not being in control. The terror of seeing himself change under his own eyes, his skin turning hotter and his horns pushing through his skin to appear on his forehead when the spider hungers inside him and he cannot do anything but let it take over. No matter how much he protests, he needs to yield. Tony needs to make him see he has to bend to the will of his biology, to stop hurting himself by rejecting this part of him. He doesn't deserve this, but he is not a monster. 

"Pete," Tony tries again, whispering too, because every step he takes makes noise, and that noise as faint as it is seems to make Peter flinch every time it echoes off the wall of Tony's bedroom. The fact that Tony's in his pajamas, awaken by Peter coming into his room in a trance while he slept, hasn't even registered yet, not really. Or it has but Tony doesn't care? He just— "You're not a monster. You hear me? You're not." 

Peter grimaces as Tony finally stands in front of him, an arm's length between them. Up this close, Tony can see the dark circles under Peter's eyes much more clearly. He can see the way his hands shake when Peter moves them even an inch as he clutches at his elbows, then waist, then fists them into his hair and cries. 

"I— I d-don't—" Peter hiccups, takes breaths after breaths that all sound too shallow and yet wheeze in and out of him before he rubs his face and focuses on Tony's again. He sounds completely wrecked when he eventually talks again, and while Tony's heart breaks from it, it also launches him into action, "I don't want to hurt you." 

Peter's crying, and Tony doesn't hesitate anymore. He knows the kid could crush him, especially now. He knows the incubus nature of his biology means what he's about to do is dangerous, knows it could weaken him beyond repair. 

Knows also, that he doesn't care. 

Whatever it takes. 

"I'm not letting you die of starvation." Is what Tony says when he grabs Peter's arms to unwind them from around his chest, then wraps his own around Peter and kisses him. "Use me, don't be scared." He says when they're both panting and Peter's hands on his hips grow claws, and the bite of them through the thin material of his nightshirt is exhilarating. "You won't hurt me. I can take it. Come on." Tony speaks between more, and more kisses. 

He walks them backwards. Peter resists through the first few steps, but when they make it to the side of Tony's bed, Peter's lost both his resolve, and most of his grip on his strength. 

"Fuck me, Peter," is the last thing Tony gets to say, before Peter sobs and pushes him. Tony falls flat on his back over his sheets, Peter tall between his knees, even taller somehow when the man joins him and lays on top of him, stealing the air from Tony's lungs as he buries his face in his neck. 

The noises Peter makes then, they don't make Tony flinch, they make him moan. They are wet, and desirable beyond measure, and if he were a less careless man, or loved Peter any less than he does - all-consumingly - they might be reason to worry. Tony doesn't. He arches his back when Peter trails hungry kisses down his throat. He groans, his loins on fire and his mouth open, as Peter tears at his shirt and gets it off him effortlessly, shredded. It's starting to take effect, the powers Peter's  _ everything _ is soaked in and letting out, craddling Tony's mind and body and essence and telling them to yearn Peter, to long for him inside, to crave his touch and his bite and his claws now drawing red lines down his chest. 

" _ Mr Stark _ ," Peter whines at some point, his chest rising and falling at a pace it shouldn't, and yet all Tony can think is he needs even more. Even more of Peter's whines and overwhelm, even more rapture as he lets himself go, for Peter, to Peter, with Peter. 

"Fuck me, kid, take everything you need." 

And Peter's red eyes flash, and his small horns shine in the low light, and their respective nakedness makes everything easier, and more frantic all at once. 

The first breach of the kid's cock, so much larger than Tony imagined, makes his eyes roll back, makes Tony curse, and cling, and his knees fall open even more. 

Peter loses it, and Tony loves it. 

He fucks him so hard, and so well. Tony's skin is covered in sweat, both his and Peter. His ass feels bruised from the inside out and his prostate ready to call it quits, and yet, he never wants it to end. 

He keeps grabbing at Peter's shoulders, and hips, and at the bumps on his back, at the little hint of a tail that was once there, right at the end of Peter's spine. He keeps murmuring words of encouragement, that certainly don't make much sense anymore. 

And then he touches Peter's horns, with trembling fingers and a few tries needed as his body is jostled by Peter's relentless thrusts. They feel so hard, and yet so smooth. The skin around them is red, searing hot, like a burning fever. They look beautiful, and every time Tony manages to rub them, or caress them, Peter's eyes flutter and his cock inside Tony pulses. 

"Come on Pete, give me your all," Tony whispers, out of strength but not out of need. His body sagging even more on the bed, in Peter's hands. 

Peter gives it to him. And Peter cries again, but not for lack of self-esteem this time. He cries and sucks at Tony's skin as he comes, hard, and for so fucking long Tony can feel it leaking around the kid's cock and out of his ass. Peter cries and Tony cries out. His own dick spurts over his stomach, not for the first time, his abused prostate screaming as it's milked for all it's worth. 

He's ruined. 

It's perfect. 

He'll do it again, even if he knows he'll have to convince Peter he can take him every time. Even if he knows he'll be sorer than ever by the time Peter's episodes die down. Whatever it takes. 

"Let's sleep now," Tony whispers, voice raw and coughing as he rubs Peter's back. "Rest up sweetheart." 

And Peter leans up to kiss him, hesitates like Tony would reject him now of all times, before going for it and pressing their lips together again. When their gazes meet again, Peter's eyes are no longer as red, but they are just as bright, and he smiles, exhausted too, as he kisses Tony one more time, then rolls off him carefully. 


End file.
